


Redundant Information

by MermaidBurgers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, I rushed through this, M/M, Oral Sex, People Not Using Their Words, They're a bit younger here, different version of how they met basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidBurgers/pseuds/MermaidBurgers
Summary: *ping*John Watson's head shot up as he viewed the incoming email with alarm. He had been just about to shut down his computer for the day, but this had a rather alarming subject line. With his lips set in a grim line he read the news. Typical of them to break the news like this to their office, typical blockheaded bureaucrats...





	Redundant Information

*ping*

John Watson's head shot up as he viewed the incoming email with alarm. He had been just about to shut down his computer for the day, but this had a rather alarming subject line. With his lips set in a grim line he read the news. Typical of them to break the news like this to their office, typical blockheaded bureaucrats...

Redundancies. 

Inevitable ones, ones that John had anticipated given they way the wind was blowing but he'd hoped to at least save up a bit more money at this ridiculous office job before he went on with his life at last...

...this train of thought was interrupted by the sound of quiet sobbing from the area of the reception desk. Oh no. Poor Molly.

He clicked off his workstation and then scampered off to lend a shoulder to cry on.

As suspected when he got over to her desk, her eyes were ringed with red and her lips were quivering. Feeling aggrieved by this state of affairs - Molly was one of the only nice people in this dull place - he went round and knelt by her desk.

"Typical of them isn't it," he muttered. "Can't even tell us any details."

He had expected that Molly would nod in agreement but instead she reached out and clasped his hand in a shockingly strong grip. John let out a masculine and not at all high pitched squeak. 

"There, there," he attempted. "You'll sort yourself out..."

With her other hand, Molly reached for a tissue box and let out a rather loud honk. John winced.

"It's not that," she said in a low confessional tone. "I know I'm going back to uni soon it's just .... I'll just miss everyone so much. You know how badly I ... I will miss it here."

John ducked his head forward and gave a sympathetic nod. He knew all too well, and really didn't want Molly examining his face too closely. After all, he felt much the same as her sometimes. On very rare occasions.

Last week, John and Molly had had a few too many pints on Friday after work and Molly had spilled the beans about her enormous crush on their current boss. John had rather wisely held back his own opinions on the matter.

_"He's so-" hic "-handsome I can't stand it!" Molly had exclaimed, then stumbled over to sit down at their bus stop. "He's got to be the sexiest beanpole I've ever laid eyes on. I just want to - want to climb it. The beanpole. But he doesn't notice."_

_John snorted unkindly._

_"How would you even notice the sexy beanpole when he hardly ever bothers to swan in to the office?"_

But forget about Friday night, or the poor attendance record of the man in charge, Molly was upset again now.

He leaned a bit closer. 

"Don't you think it might be time to ... well... Move on."

Molly sniffed and looked back at him with despair. Her face was fairly open and John felt something of a twinge of envy at the ease that the emotions seemed to pour out of her. She leaned in a little closer.

"It's even less use now," she muttered, defeated. "We both need to move on."

John sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He was about to reply, but paused a moment to brush a strand of hair out of Molly's eyes. She squeezed his hand even tighter, when...

"JOHN!"

He nearly leapt a mile in the air, and came perilously close to breaking Molly's nose so fast he whipped around to stare at the bane of his existence. Molly's hand released his alarmingly fast.

There stood behind him six feet of angry consultant - glaring aggressively.

"What are you doing?"

John opened his mouth.

"No, don't answer I can see for a fact you're not doing anything, you're here canoodling for some reason -"

John echoed the sentiment behind Molly's squeak of protest -

"-when in fact you should be working, more specifically sending me the usage reports for this week which are not on my desk and which I definitely requested to be on my desk by this time last Tuesday at two oh eight pm."

A groan erupted from John and he didn't even bother to hide it. He had indeed totally forgotten those reports.

Sherlock paused.

"And why are you still kneeling there?"

There was a plaintive note in Sherlock's tone that John didn't entirely attend to since he was sighing, and giving Molly's hand a pat as he hauled himself back up to head back over to his own desk. A huff came out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Molly, go home. It's past five on a Friday. You must have a jumper to knit or a cat to feed."

John started again at the sheer unfairness of that decree. He pressed the on button to his computer a bit more firmly than was needed as he stared at Sherlock frowning at Molly. As he opened his spreadsheets, Molly muttered a short reply, then fled, cheeks bright red.

John sighed as Sherlock headed back into his own office.

He definitely needed a new job.

***

After what felt like an age, but in reality wasn't more than 20 minutes, John collected his papers from the printer and then trotted back over to Sherlock's office. 

When the consultant had arrived at the firm only a month ago, (but it had felt much longer), he'd immediately claimed the biggest office for his own. The previous supervisor had made a big show of generously acquiescing. That had been the first sign of which way the wind was blowing when their previous supervisor - an odd man who had constantly made terrible jokes - had disappeared over night, leaving his employees with no explanation and a decidedly unconventional replacement - here on a consulting basis only.

Further evidence of the man's unconventionality - he had willingly stayed late in the office on a Friday night - and kept John there too - only to sit in his desk chair with his eyes closed and his fingers steepled.

John cleared his throat. Blue eyes opened and felt himself quailing a bit under their scrutiny until he remembered why he'd entered his office.

"The reports you asked for, Sir."

Something in Sherlock's gaze darkened and he continue to stare at John for a long moment before he nodded at the inbox on his desk.

Oh just typical. After making John stay late the man wasn't even going to examine the reports - just file them away with the rest of the mess on his horrifically cluttered desk. Biting his tongue, John dropped the papers then turned to leave.

"Have you got plans for the evening?"

John started, then turned to stare at the man. Unexpected.

"With Molly?"

Was it his imagination or was there a note of disdain in Sherlock's voice? Oh that wouldn't do.

"Would it actually pain you to stop being unkind? She was rather upset you know," he huffed at last. "About the news," he added when Sherlock simply gazed at him with a blank look. John threw his hands in the air. "She needs this job you know!"

John pressed his lips together and stared at the man who was just blinking at him owlishly.

"That's ridiculous," he said at last. "She could get a much better job if she went back to school like she's planning on. So could you."

John stared, aghast.

"What?"

"Oh come on, both of you are rather ordinary but not that thick. Surely you've noticed rather a lot of strange going ons at this company -"

"-since you got here," finished John grimly. "Well that's that I suppose."

Sherlock was just frowning at him now. Odd, infuriating man. John sighed. 

"I don't expect you to have much sympathy but you could at least say how bad it's going to be. With the redundancies."

Sherlock's frown deepened.

"You really haven't noticed what's going on then. Disappointing."

John gawked. Despite his words, he had in fact, expected the man to have a bit of sympathy.

"So that's that then," he bit out. John had expected to feel .... something at the prospect of losing his job but in fact he mainly felt resigned to his fate. "I hope you'll try to be a bit more sympathetic when you tell everyone else they're to be made redundant."

"Well that's one small bit of relief," muttered Sherlock. "You really haven't noticed what's in your reports."

"Is there anything else?" snapped John.

He could feel his face growing red. Later on he would probably be horribly embarrassed he'd spoken so shortly to his boss but right now he could feel himself growing steadily more furious. Who was he to sit there muttering nonsense to himself when most of his employees had just been made aware they might not have jobs soon?

Instead of replying, Sherlock simply stared at him a while longer, until John heaved a great sigh and stormed out of his office.

Typical.

Block headed bureaucrats.

John was really looking forward to his bed in his sad little room tonight.

Which for some reason was the thing that annoyed him the most when just as he was reaching his sad little Honda in the car park he felt hand clamp over his mouth then a horrible smell and collapsed into darkness, was that he'd honestly been looking forward to a bit of peace and quiet.

***

For a time, John had tried to make a point of jogging to work. 

It wasn't the most scenic route in Britain, and the pavement wasn't really the best surface to be running on, but he badly needed the exercise. Can't move onward and upward without moving his arse first, so for most of summer he would strap on his trainers and jogging shorts then shower at the office. (One of the few amenities in the building.) The only downside was that it meant he needed to arrive rather early in time to change.

So early in fact that he was there in time to observe a rather nice car parked outside. So nice that he had assumed it couldn't possibly belong to someone entering his boring and ordinary office. So nice that it was odd.

It seemed odd, but not odd enough to change his routine, so he didn't really expect anyone else in the building. The gents with the shower installed was far enough away from the office's desks that he didn't really think anything of stripping off his t-shirt while he strolled over, stilly lightly gasping for breath.

So it was nice that he then tripped over a man bent over the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet and wound up sprawled out on the floor clutching his head.

A rather handsome man, he thought to himself as he clutched his head, feeling woebegone. A handsome man who was now stopping to stare at John. John who was sprawled out on the floor wearing nothing but trainers and his running shorts.

He strained for an intelligent way to excuse himself.

"Um," he announced. And then, having run out of words, bit his lip hard and made a pleading face.

The stranger's faze darkened and he swayed a bit closer in a way that would haunt John's dreams for years to some.

"Highly irregular," breathed out the stranger. "Highly irregular indeed."

The two men stood staring at each other for another long moment. The strange man scrutinized John for another long moment until the senior sales rep sprawled out on the floor finally realized he ought to sit up.

"Do you mind? I still need to wash up."

He nodded towards the gents and the lockers just behind the block of filing cabinets. Any attempts to put the humiliating encounter out of his mind were blown to bits when the odd man was introduced first thing as a new consultant, Sherlock Holmes by the soon to be ex-boss.

***

John woke up in the trunk of a car.

John woke up in the trunk of a car with a sore head, his arms bound, and the heightened awareness that there was another body in the trunk cradled around him.

What on earth?

"Mmmmmph!" exclaimed John into his gag. "Nnnnnrgh!"

"Hush," hissed a familiar voice from behind him. "You've caused enough trouble."

At this once again unfair announcement, John found himself angry enough to start thrashing about, until an arm suddenly clamped down on him.

"We are currently in danger in case you hadn't noticed," hissed Sherlock into John's ear. "It was not very pleasant getting myself captured to follow you. Now just try to be quiet, don't say a word, and no one should notice you."

John finally froze up.

"Honestly did you think you worked at a paper company? Rather funny of them to use that as front for their operations. Now please tell me you'll be able to keep your mouth shut."

With a nod of his head, John expected to be released from the tight grip, but instead there was only a breath huffed into the back of his neck.

***

John had never been so glad to see a policeman in his life.

Or at least he thinks the men who've burst in and liberated him are the police. Either way, he's glad.

He'd been dragged out of the car, trying to shout and struggle as much as his bonds had allowed him. Behind him, he realized that Sherlock was doing a far more effective job of shouting and struggling than he was. Then came a fairly horrible period of being asked questions about his weekly reports, which he realized he had in fact, hardly ever actually paid attention to.

"I just type them up," he insisted. "I don't know anything."

The blow that landed on his chest forced a loud grunt out of him. He supposed he should be happy that they were avoiding his face.

"I've had it with your bullshits," sneered the smaller man. "It's you who has been feeding information to the Albanians."

This sentence made less than no sense.

"I work at a paper company," he protested. "I'm probably being made redundant soon anyways." 

Rather than convincing the men who were interrogating him, this statement seemed to wind them up further and John realized with a sinking heart, that he may actually be in real trouble.

Which was of course when the police burst in, and caused his captors to flee. Or at least he thought they were probably police, they weren't in uniform and they were being bossed about by a man with an umbrella who was also pausing to shout at Sherlock.

John felt himself start to sway.

This Friday evening really hadn't turned out the way he had expected.

"-and you might as well take some responsibility for once in your life!"

"Mycroft - typical block headed bureaucrat," hissed Sherlock. "I almost had this case! You had to blunder in and ruin everything!"

"You endangered civilians!"

John suddenly realized that Sherlock was not exactly the sort of consultant he had first assumed, that perhaps he did not in fact work at a paper company, and that he was in fact the civilian in question.

"Um," he muttered. To his surprise the two men whirled around and stared at him. "I don't suppose I can have a lift home can I?"

The one Sherlock had been calling Mycroft gave a short nod, and Sherlock strode forward and seized him by the arm. John then found himself being dragged out of the building and towards the very nice car he'd first noticed about a month ago. It seemed a much better prospect than looking around the odd building he'd been dragged into for clues about what on earth was going on.

It's just.

It was a really nice car.

And Sherlock was dragging him into it.

"You're going to explain everything," he said in a firm voice once he was seated inside. "Now."

"Of course," Sherlock had replied. "So first of all, a paper company is a rather entertaining front for this particular shell corporation."

It was all a bit dreary - white collar crime covering a more sinister criminal operation - and John felt a bit tetchy about not having noticed what was going on under his own nose.

"I suppose there really will be loads of redundancies then," he said. "Molly won't be too pleased."

There was a gruff noise from beside him, and then the car came to an abrupt halt. John hadn't really been paying any mind to where they had been going, so it was with only mild shock that he realized they had arrived at his own abode.

"Come in for a drink," he offered automatically, and then cringed. "I mean if -"

"-your brother won't be home, he'll be out on the lash as always since it's Friday night," replied Sherlock. "You really shouldn't be so bothered with what he does."

John whirled around to stare at Sherlock.

"I mean there really isn't any other reason for someone who is trained as a surgeon to be hanging around his hometown and working in a ridiculous office unless they were overly concerned with someone there - I had thought Molly for a while but then I realized a Harry Watson had recently been relieved of their position at the office."

"H-how did you know all that?"

"Your phone," sighed Sherlock. He got out of the car and unlocked John's door. "It's simple really."

Maybe the blow to the head had affected him more than he thought.

"Amazing," muttered John. "Come on then."

Once he had gotten inside his flat - and to his relief there was no Harriet passed out on their sofa, reeking like a distillery - he set about making two cups of tea, and then with a nod at Sherlock, dropped in something a little stronger. He let the taller man pontificate at length on the details of the case - this one was connected to that one, and the dreadfully dull reports that John had been laboring over all summer - he'd taken a job at that office to help keep an eye on Harriet as a favor to his father - a plan that had backfired spectacularly - those dreadfully dull reports had contained the minutiae of how a criminal empire embezzled and laundered and so on and so forth.

John stared steadily at Sherlock and leaned in a little bit closer. The man really was terrifically entertaining after John had resigned himself to quite a long period of boredom. So entertaining that John found himself overcome with the urge to do something terribly rash about his rather handsome boss's presence in his sad little flat before he lost the chance.

"Thank goodness I didn't wind up having to dig a bullet out of you," he murmured, voice pitched low. "I've barely had any practice."

This statement was accompanied by John brushing a hand along Sherlock's flank, as though he was innocently considering where he might have had to dig out that bullet. Sherlock however, seized up in shock as though John had electrocuted him where he'd been touched and whirled to stare at John with wide eyes. His teacup was trembling in his hands strongly enough that John gently removed it and set it down on the side table.

Well. He hadn't exactly expected Sherlock to be so clearly inexperienced - he was rather handsome after all - but perhaps just a bit of reassurance was needed. He could still work with this.

"I really don't know how I can thank you," he sighed leaning in closer. "I was in terrible danger and never even noticed."

Sherlock's eyes widened again and John decided to take his chances and run his hand along the man's thigh. With no small measure of glee, he realized Sherlock was allowing it - until the man began talking again.

"You may have experienced a blow to the head and several contusions - you're not deeply in shock but the adrenaline of the situation has barely worn off - John you're just confusing your body's natural arousal with ah -"

With a scoff John let his hand still on the taller man.

"Well so what? And you? It's perfectly alright to be confused." He paused and licked his lips and noticed that Sherlock's eyes tracked his tongue's movement. "I don't mind at all."

"This is just - this is highly irregular for me. I don't do this sort of thing. At all. Ever."

Ah. A confused man indeed.

"Don't worry about it," John said soothingly. "I can tell you like me and you don't have to sort out what it all means for now." He paused and licked his lips again. Feeling as though he might have actually gone insane he let the words come out. "I'd just really like to get my mouth on you and this seems like a good time to do it."

Sherlock's eyes were glazed over and he was flushed. With any other man John would be pulling his clothes off by now, but for some reason Sherlock still seemed off balance. Time for extreme measures then. Sighing John slid off of the sofa and went to kneel between Sherlock's legs.

"Is this alright," he asked. "Would this work?"

At last Sherlock nodded, and with a happy sigh John reached forward and eagerly undid the man's flies. He didn't think it would work to paw at him too much - probably the man had harbored the notion that he was heterosexual until now but who knows with some people - so he clamped his hands down on the man's thighs once he had pulled him out of his trousers and settled down to lick and suck at him in a teasing way. Soon Sherlock began panting and squirming and John realized that the man was even more inexperienced than he had thought. He'd need to be gentle - and careful with this one. With a mental sigh, he reached down to palm at himself and then surged forward to take more of Sherlock into his mouth.

The reaction was extremely satisfying, but John did wish he'd been given a bit more warning before he had to start swallowing frantically. Sherlock's hand came and landed in his hair tugging rather hard and John moaned in approval while letting his own hand move frantically on himself and finding his own completion.

Well.

That could certainly have been drawn out a bit longer but John really had no complaints. He grinned up at Sherlock who was gasping for breath in a manner John found more than a bit flattering.

"That - that was wrong on so many levels," blurted out Sherlock. "I can't believe - did you just seduce me."

"Um," John wiped at his mouth. "Well it was good yeah?"

"I'm your boss," continued Sherlock. "I'm your boss and I've just rescued you - and you're probably very delicate."

"I am not!" exclaimed John. "And you're clearly - you're not my real boss."

Sherlock glared at him and John sighed. 

"Come on, you can spend the night if you like. I told you already - you really don't need to overthink this whole thing."

To his immense relief, Sherlock deemed it appropriate to crawl into bed next to him. John had wanted to stay awake awhile longer - he might be concussed, but he was fairly certain he wasn't - but sleep came for him easily and soon he was off into a contented sleep.

At least it was contented until he woke in the morning to find Sherlock staring at him intently.

"Good morning," he said. "John how long have you been enlisted in the army?"

"Blech," groaned John. "Tea?"

"Yes, alright tea. And how long?"

John rubbed at his eyes. 

"Well I'd only just gotten news that I'm to be leaving soon - but I mean that was why I kept running to work, have to keep up with the training."

With a heroic effort he sat up.

"That's why I wasn't really too upset about the redundancies," he added. "I mean I'm going to be an army doctor - and I really hope Harriet passed out somewhere else last night. I don't think I can go on looking after someone like this."

"Yes," said Sherlock. "I suppose not."

John realized that there was a note of sadness in the man's voice and morning breath be damned, he leaned over to give him a small peck on the lips.

"I mean, I can still keep in touch - with everyone," he continued. "I'm fairly determined - it isn't like I'll be dropping off the to the ends of the earth."

"I hope not."

He noted that Sherlock's ears were a bit pink and grinned. 

"Cheer up," he implored. "You were the one who said I could get a much better job anyways."

"Yes that's true," murmured Sherlock. "I said that."

There was a long pause.

"John I really don't - I don't do -"

"Hey, hey," interrupted John. "Stop thinking. And I'll be in touch yeah?"

It didn't seem to be soothing the man the way it had the night before.

"I promise," he added firmly. "I will."

Never let it be said that John Watson was heartless after all.

"I'm going to worry," sighed Sherlock. "I really am."

There was a note of surprise in his voice, as though the man who seemed to make a living investigating dangerous criminals hadn't considered the possibility that joining the army may present occasional dangers as well.

"Just come have some tea," sighed John. "We can worry about how this will all work out in the end afterwards."

Sherlock nodded, and trotted after John to the kitchen. He smiled at him in the morning light and John felt an easy sense of contentment and he foraged for sugar and milk. Sherlock really wasn't so bad after all.

It would be years of course, before he realized just what he'd gotten himself into that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this would be my first fic for this fandom and I'm late to the party - hiiiiiiiiii!
> 
> *waves*


End file.
